


In Somnia

by Cliophilyra



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little anyway, Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Dreams, M/M, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3230477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliophilyra/pseuds/Cliophilyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is dreaming....</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Somnia

**Author's Note:**

> So this started as a one shot but then it seemed to want to be more so now it's a first chapter! I have no idea where it is going and the rating will probably change later.  
> Please tell me what you think and any ideas for how it might develop will be gratefully received!  
> If you like it please leave kudos/comments and if you don't like it let me know - but be nice :)
> 
> Thank you so much to flutterby_cupcake_26 for reading for me - any remaining mistakes are all my own fault :)

In Somnia

 

Chapter One

The float bobs in the water, pushing tiny expanding circles out around it. They ripple away into nothing only to be refreshed by more; there is something soothing about the regularity of it.

I’m sitting in a folding chair on a wooden dock, watching the float with mild interest. I’m waiting for something but it’s not urgent; I’m not even completely sure what it is I’m expecting.

The sun is starting to set but it is still hot on the back of my neck and my shoulders. I can feel the sticky warmth of the fishing rods rubber grip in my hands, the unstable, creaky surface of the jetty beneath my boots and the very slight breeze that moves over the water. Despite the breeze nothing moves apart from the ripples on the lake.

I know I’m dreaming.

 

“Hey Cas,” I say lightly because I know he’s here by my side. I’m not surprised to find him in my dream; it’s not the first time he’s been here.

“Hello Dean.”

We don’t say anything else for a while. He stands beside me, watching the lake silently until he shifts on his feet. 

“Sit?” I ask because there is another folding chair now, which has just appeared and has always been there.  
He looks down at it, head on one side in that adorable ridiculous way he has but he doesn’t sit. I shrug, “Suit yourself.” This happens sometimes, he can be stiff and awkward with me, at first.

I reach out to him with my free hand and take hold of one of his. He looks faintly surprised but says nothing, just curls his slim fingers around my rougher ones. His hand is smooth and warm and comfortable. I have always liked this part, the quiet and the comfort.

I can be sappy here in my own head if I can’t anywhere else. Here is where I don’t have to be what I am.

 

After a few moments I turn and look up at him. The failing sunlight is behind him, surrounding him with an aura of pinkish golden light. The ends of his permanently messed up hair catch the light too and I wonder if this is what his halo looks like. Does he even have a halo? I’ve tried to imagine what he really looks like but I’ve never quite managed it. I have a feeling it’s not something I could ever comprehend but that doesn’t stop me trying.

He looks down at me with that unreadable expression I’m so used to. The lake is reflected in his eyes and the blue is like nothing I have the words to describe; words have never been my strong suit. I realise that they’re exactly the same blue as the sky above the lake and I have a feeling that’s not accidental; I created this sky with my mind after all.

He is frowning a little, a tiny furrow appearing between his eyebrows as if he’s trying to make sense of something. He’s about to speak again, his dry almost too pink lips start to form the first syllable of my name but I am not in the mood to talk so I just pull him down to press my lips against his.

I close my eyes, feeling the warm roughness of his lips, the slight burn of his stubble against my skin and the surprised huff of breath into my mouth. Then suddenly he lets out a small, desperate, muffled sound and he’s kissing me back. Leaning down he grasps the sides of my face with both hands and his thumbs are stroking over my cheekbones.

He feels real; so much more so than any time before. 

Here in my head this has happened a thousand times in a hundred different ways; everything that I want apparently. Deep down where I can’t ever let anyone see. 

The first time it happened it took me completely by surprise. I fell asleep and suddenly I was wrapped around him; hands on his smooth skin, lips on his warm neck, mouth, chest, cock, fingers twisting in his hair. His head thrown back and completely un-angelic sounds coming from that perfect mouth. I woke up with a gasp, drenched in sweat and harder than I think I have ever been in my life. I lay in the dark, staring at the mysteriously stained motel ceiling, waiting for my heart rate to dip below the point where I might actually have a heart attack and thought ‘Oh shit.’ That was not something I had expected. 

Ok yes, I was aware, in a vague sense, that what I felt for him had changed in the last few months. That he was attractive, that my hands itched when he was in the room, as if they wanted to reach for him. That my heart sped up when he stared at me for too long with those brilliant blue eyes, when he stood too close. But I dealt with it the only way I know how to; by snapping at him, by pushing him away and the feelings down because that was not something I was prepared to deal with. Because when humans want something, really want something? We lie. Especially to ourselves.

The dreams didn’t stop though; every time I closed my eyes he was there. At first it was like the first dream, hot and heavy. So in the end I told myself it was ok, it was just lust, I know how to deal with lust. If this is what I want then in dreams is the one place where I can give in and have what I want for once. I tried not to think to much about the times when it was slower, sweeter, softer, because that felt more like…something I’m not prepared to think about. Something I don’t deserve.

This time it’s different again; although he kisses me back he feels unsure, unfamiliar. His fingers on my skin are skittish, exploring nervously as if he is not convinced that he is allowed to do this. Somehow this makes everything better, this is not the Cas my desperate, repressed brain has invented for me. He feels solid under my hands where they grip the front of his coat and his shoulder.

I pull back, suddenly I’m nervous. I look up at him as he straightens up, he blinks rapidly and frowns again. We stare at each other for one of those indefinite periods of time that only come in dreams. Why does this feel so different? 

“Dean..” he starts, his voice is quiet, rougher than usual. His lips are even pinker than usual, kiss swollen. He licks them tentatively and blinks again, “I…that was…unexpected.” He nods to himself as if satisfied that he has chosen the right word. I am suddenly very aware of what’s wrong. At the same time as the awful realisation hits me and I jump up, the chairs vanish, the fishing rod is gone and even the ripples in the water stop their movement. He clears his throat, the strangely real and un-dreamlike sound confirming my suspicion even before he speaks.

“Dean, I came to give you a message.”

This is Cas, not dream-Cas, actual Cas. I am still dreaming but he is real.

It’s as if everything in my mind has ground to a halt. The water is frozen, the ripples are there but they’re just ridges in the water. The trees are still, the breeze is gone, all there is is the jetty, the gold-streaked sky, the solid lake and Cas, standing in front of me like an awkward statue - if that’s even possible.

More than anything else in the world I just want to wake up. 

But I’m not waking up. I’m just standing, staring. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for him to reach out, for the surge of light and pain that comes with being smited. Does it hurt, smiting? It always looked like it did. I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of it; after everything I’ve done, we’ve done, I’m going to go out for kissing an angel of the lord in my own mind. I’ve always suspected it would be the crap in my head that killed me in the end.

He does reach out, his fingers touch my lip, dragging over the skin but there’s no light, no pain, there’s just those eyes burning into me. He’s looking at me like he can see my soul and he says, “I’m not going to smite you.”

“Why?” I hear myself ask, there’s no way he can be ok with this. He’s a fucking angel and this is definitely blasphemous.

“I have seen your soul Dean, I know everything there is to know about you. I understand,” he continues, blithely unaware of the twist in my stomach at the thought of anyone knowing what goes on in my head, “And I love you too.”

I wake up.

——————————————------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am sitting bolt upright in my uncomfortable bed in the shitty motel room, the sheets are wrapped around my legs and my hair is sticking to my wet skin. I realise I am holding my breath and I drag in a huge lungful of air and convulse in a coughing fit.

Sam turns over in his bed across the room and mumbles, “Dean?”

My heart is hammering but I do my best to stop coughing and choke out, “Yeah Sammy, m’ok, go back to sleep.”

“Ok, die quietly,” Sam replies and turns over.

I lie back down, scrubbing my hands over my eyes and willing my heart to stop racing. What the fuck? What the fuck do I do now? He…an angel of the fucking lord…loves me? Does he even know what that means? Does he just mean he loves me like - like an angel - like God’s love sort of thing? My breathing starts to slow, yes, that must be it. I decide to ignore the bit where he says he knows everything about me, the bit where he kissed me back, the fact that he’s not a fucking idiot. He just means he forgives me. 

Eventually I fall asleep again. I don’t dream.


End file.
